


Outlive

by CalicoPudding



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Crying, Dreams, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13640202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoPudding/pseuds/CalicoPudding
Summary: To outlive someone you love is a lonely thing, but they'll be waiting when your time comes.





	Outlive

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to make my friend cry so I'm sharing it with you all now

Their first close call comes in the form of an akuma, as these things usually do.

Paris is home to a couple million people, so it’s not surprising that neither of them know who this particular akuma is.

In any case, Ladybug goes flying and he’s not fast enough to catch her.

He goes after her, extending his staff so it launches him in her direction. He lands on his feet and the air leaves his lungs.

“Ladybug!”

He drops to her side, letting out a shaky sigh of relief when he sees her breathing. Her eyes are scrunched shut in pain, there’s a cut on her cheek that’s weeping a fairly impressive stream of blood. More concerning however is the dark red seeping into her suit at her left side. It doesn’t seem to be growing or saturating further, but he can smell the blood in the air.

“Can you move?” he asks.

“Yeah, just- just help me up.”

He nods and helps her onto her feet, supporting her weight until she can stand without swaying. That doesn’t happen though, she takes one step and nearly falls flat on her face.

“Okay, I’ll carry you there, but let me handle it,” he says, “then you can purify the butterfly and Miraculous Ladybug yourself back to normal. That will fix this, right?”

He doesn’t care about how his voice is trembling, she knows he cares about her and that’s enough. She smiles at him and all he sees is the bruise on her jaw and the blood slicking her neck.

“It should, I’ll be okay.”

She takes a moment to catch her breath before looping her arms around his neck so he can pick her up. This is nothing new, he’s carried her enough times that it’s no hindrance to his mobility as he takes to the sky again. It’s just a little different because he’s holding her to keep pressure on her left side. He sets her behind a car, pressing a kiss to her head and placing her hands over her side wound before going to handle the akuma.

It’s difficult. He has to draw it close enough that Ladybug can use her yo-yo, but far enough way that it won’t pose a threat to her. To make matters worse, he’s distracted for the whole fight and he knows it.

Eventually though, he manages to get at the watch where the butterfly resides. He throws it to the ground next to Ladybug and she smiles before doing what she does best, even if her hands are shaking when she does so.

With warm eyes, he watches as she’s covered in a flurry of pink light. When it swirls away, her cuts and bruises are gone, not a spot of blood anywhere on her. She’s on her feet again, a smile on her lips as she holds out her fist.

Instead, he picks her up in a tight hug, spinning her around.

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll do my best,” she says.

They break apart and she jogs over to the akuma victim, helping them to their feet.

He can’t do anything but stare at her as she moves. Her smile hasn’t changed, her posture is the same as it was, almost like she hadn’t been seriously injured only moments ago.

Her earrings beep after a few seconds and she dismisses herself with one last look in his direction. He hadn’t used his cataclysm in this fight so he stays behind for a little while in order to do crowd control.

* * *

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes, a smile stretching her lips ever so slightly.

“This is where we meet for patrol, Chat.” There’s a happy lilt in her voice and he grins as he moves to stand beside her properly. “We _always_ meet here.”

“My statement still stands.”

“Come on, silly kitty.”

There’s no urgency tonight, they walk across rooftops at a leisurely pace. Worn patrol routes through the city, they vary only a little, investigating potential problems but finding nothing. The night air is quiet, and it’s nice.

They’d been on edge, a flurry of akuma attacks, the shortest rest period they’ve ever seen between them, had them running on fumes and quick detransformations in alleyways to feed their kwamis. It was a mess, one lucky charm after another, a cataclysm here and there, too  many bruises and scrapes to count.

But things seem to have settled down some.

“How’ve you been?” she asks suddenly, clasping her hands behind her back, giving him a gentle smile.

“I’m okay,” he says, and he means it. These nightly patrols do wonders for him, like a recharge.

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent, don’t worry about me, my lady, I’m always okay.”

She doesn’t look like she quite believes him, but they’re both stubborn so she just nods.

“Well, I do, someone’s gotta.”

They both laugh at that, and he finds himself staring like he always does.

Until she suddenly drops.

Acting on instinct, he reaches out for her with one hand, planting his staff in the roof they’re on with his other. The sudden jerk has most definitely pulled wrong at his shoulder, but Ladybug is nearly parallel with the pavement.

After a tense moment, he steels himself and pulls her up, slowly so her feet don’t slip. Neither of them breathe for what feels like an eternity. He chances looking over the edge to see a few shattered roofing tiles broken on the ground.

“Thanks,” she says, voice a little shaky.

It’s weird.

They’ve faced hulking akumas many times larger than they are, they’ve been flung across the city, nearly run over or smashed, but this is what steals the air from her lungs?

“I’m sorry,” she says with a soft a chuckle, though he knows her heart is still racing.

“What?”

Why is she apologizing? She nearly got hurt just now, she has nothing to apologize for.

“I promised I wouldn’t scare you anymore.”

He thinks about lying, saying he wasn’t scared, but he was, _is_. It’s a simple thing, slipping off the roof, anyone could do it, even superheroes. He just lets out a sigh and jumps a little when Ladybug’s hand falls onto his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she says, “just need to watch my step a little better.” When he doesn’t respond immediately, she continues on, her voice soft, “I’m glad you were here."

* * *

 They’re superheroes, danger is part of the contract, the contract they both signed willingly.

They’re older now, new powers and new suits, but the same people down in their hearts.

Ladybug has beat him to the scene, already spinning her yo-yo, pushed into a defensive position between a building and an approaching akuma. It’s hurling projectiles at her, they’re shattering on impact with her yo-yo but it’s getting rougher the closer the akuma gets.

“Need a lift?” he calls down from the roof, only seconds after his own transformation.

He doesn’t wait for her response, jumping down and looping an arm around her waist, extending his staff to shoot them both into the air. They land one street down, on another roof, and Ladybug rests her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. It’s then that he notices how locked up her right arm.

“What happened?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she says, resting her left hand on his shoulder as she straightens up. “I just wasn’t expecting...that, is all.”

 _That_ is a rather large akuma form, something like rigid sleeves running from their shoulder to wrist. Whatever it is, it forms a point that extends beyond the hands and shoots what look to be shrapnel type projectiles that break apart on impact with whatever they hit. The form itself is mostly white, with some blue and red but they don’t seem to be adorned with much of anything.

“Where’s the butterfly?” he asks.

“In their ring,” Ladybug says, pointing a shaky hand in the akuma’s direction. As it raises its hand to aim, he can barely catch a glimpse of something shiny before it vanishes.

“How are we supposed to get that? More importantly, are you okay?”

“I’m not sure yet, and I’m fine, trust me, Chat.”

To date, it’s their longest fight. They’re ragged by the end of it. He gets smashed into a building, very nearly concussed and with pain coiling tight around his spine. Ladybug’s arm locks up completely halfway through, forcing her to handle her yo-yo with her left hand, something she’s been working on for a little while now. The worst part is that it locks up amidst a hail of projectiles. He’d jumped in of course, twirling his staff in front of her she could make the switch, but not before she was already bleeding.

Ladybug drops to her knees after the purified butterfly flies off, and even after her magic has put everything to rights, she stays on the ground. He checks in with the victim before picking Ladybug up in his arms and using his staff to get away from the scene.

Night is already falling so he doesn’t worry about anyone seeing them. He takes them to her home, slipping into her room and setting her on her bed. Their transformations run out almost simultaneously, Tikki and Plagg making a beeline for the tin of cookies that Marinette keeps for this very reason.

He sits beside her and holds her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Just sore,” she says quietly, wringing her hands together.

They’ve taken some tough hits before, the problem being that some of them stay. His left leg goes numb sometimes, or it maintains a dull ache through the day, sometimes it doesn’t straighten out all the way. Marinette hurt her shoulder a few months back, such that Miraculous Ladybug still left her with a scar. Ever since, she’s been having trouble with it. The lock up in today’s battle only serving as a reminder.

She leans her head on his shoulder and sighs.

“We won though,” she says after a moment.

“We did.”

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into as tight a hug as he can without hurting her. Tikki and Plagg manage to airlift the cookie tin over to them.

“You look awful,” Plagg says.

“You two should sleep, you’ve earned it,” Tikki says, throwing a crumb at Plagg’s head, he just catches it in his mouth so the action is more or less null and void.

“Sleep sounds good,” Marinette says. “Goodnight, Adrien.”

* * *

“Chat?”

He doesn’t want to look, he never does, not anymore. But he does, his eyes open to see black gloves, claws at the end, a ring on one finger. Then he looks up, eyes meeting Ladybug’s and avoiding everything else.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking as she moves closer.

Bloody hands cup his face, her touch still gentle.

“I know, I know you are,” she says. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

She takes her hands away, he can feel the warm liquid cooling against his skin and he refrains from reaching up to wipe it away.

“That doesn’t change anything though.”

As she moves away, he desperately tries to keep his eyes on hers. He’s unsuccessful and the rest of the scene swims into the picture.

Their last akuma, their worst ever. They’d had to evacuate part of the city as the akuma rampaged. Half of their plan was to restrain it so they could take care of the citizens, the both of them running children to their parents and doing what they could to transform their home into a ghost town.

There were no citizen fatalities, thank goodness, but there were several injured that had to be evacuated before the fight could begin in earnest.

They’d been winning for a while, the both of them scratched up and bruised. His leg had been holding steady all day, as had her shoulder, but her hand had been finicky, her fingers not operating at one hundred percent. It was okay though, she’d mastered use of her yo-yo with her left hand, so the moment there was a problem, she’d switched.

They were winning, until they weren’t.

Ladybug’s suit is saturated in one too many place, no major bleeds, just sheer quantity. The blood on her hands comes from the wound at stomach, she’d had to sit out for a while and apply pressure. She’s in one piece, leaning heavily to one side, her left hand cradling her right arm now.

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she says just before he wakes up.

He sits up slow, soaked in sweat and body sore with tension. The dream isn’t reality, and he has to remind himself of that. They survived that battle, they both lived through it. They were banged up and they were nearly broken, but they’d come out on top. It was the last akuma they ever fought, no more arrived after that. Master Fu told them that the kwamis responsible for the Peacock and Butterfly Miraculouses had come home on their own, not offering up any further details.

Plagg opens his eyes, this has happened enough times before that he doesn’t panic like he used to. Tikki still worries though, she floats out of her bed, converted from the purse Marinette used to carry her in, and settles on Adrien’s blanket covered knee.

“The same dream?” she asks.

Adrien just nods, rubbing his face with his hands before gently nuzzling Tikki’s head.

“I miss her,” he says, because it’s easier to say that than to talk about the dream’s contents. Tikki knows that, knows that better than anyone.

“I do too.”

* * *

He hasn’t had nightmares in a while now. They’re sporadic, uncommon, he can ignore them when he wants to. He’s not sure why the stopped, maybe he’s made his peace with it. He’s not sure. All the same, he wakes up with the blurry remnants of a dream fading fast. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His socks aren’t enough to block the chill from the floor but he stands anyway, stretching as best he can.

His leg still presents a bit of an issue, physical therapy fixed that up, more or less, and it seems to be okay today. It’s been ages but he still finds it strange to wake up alone now. If only because he got used to having somebody around. Even after Marinette, Tikki and Plagg stayed with him for a while, having left only recently, at his urging. He’s felt it coming on for a while now, he knows he doesn’t have much time left, and he’s glad that, if he’s to die, it will be in his own home.

With slow steps, he makes his way down the hall, stopping at the second door on the left.

He steps inside, eyes roaming and taking in the sights he’s long since memorized. It’s how she left it, he hasn’t had the heart to touch it. The dress models still stand in the corner, the wall cubbies still hold bolts of fabric, and her sketches are still pinned on the wall. They’d spent a good many hours in this room together. He remembers all the times he’d woken up in bed only to find her slumped over the desk. He’d wake her up as he carried her back to bed and she’d mumble that there was still work to be done.

It was strange, their biggest concern used to be the safety of the city, but it eventually became deadlines and making sure their schedules lined up so they could at least do date night on the weekends.

Careful, he sits down on her stool, lifting her idea book from the depths of the crate that sits beneath the desk. She’d never finished her last book, there are more than a few blank pages at the end. He starts at the beginning and flips the pages one by one. At one point, he’d worn some of these, at the very least he’d stood in as her dummy when she made the final alterations.

The last sketch in the book is an absent minded doodle, half finished, partially colored, of one particular red kwami.

He closes the book, placing it back in the crate.

The kitchen is next, and he smiles out of habit when he enters.

She’d taught him how to bake, he got the hang of it after a little while, but he still pretended to be inept, if only so she’d show him that wonderful smile as she took his hands in hers. He knows she caught on after a few times, but she played along, happy to continue their little game.

Most of their photos reside in the living room, mismatched frames artfully arranged on the walls. It’s a timeline, in a way. Starting on one side are their pictures from school, back before they’d figured out each other’s identities. Then the photos shift, their first date, their friends at graduation, photos from weddings, photos from events and shows. There’s a gap then, a missing chunk of time. He’d forgotten to take pictures after she died, didn’t think anything worth immortalizing in a frame. Years went by, not a new picture to adorn the wall, until Tikki dug her old polaroid out of a bin in the closet. He did his best to compensate, covered the wall in photos of their friends, a few of himself, and some pictures he thinks she might have found pretty.

He hopes it’s enough.

* * *

He goes to sleep, body heavy and chest warm.

It takes just longer than a moment, he feels like he’s been sleeping for hours before he opens his eyes again.

The world seems softer, colors not quite muted but they’re easier on his eyes. He’s not sure where he is, exactly, it’s difficult to string together logical thoughts about what he’s seeing. The biggest difference, he realizes after a moment, is that there’s no pain in his body. His leg feels fine, his back does too, there’s no low aching hum thrumming through him.

He stands up, a smile already stretching his lips. Looking down, he can see himself, young again, wearing two rings.

“Well, it’s about time.”

He turns around immediately, tears already pouring down his face.

And there she is.

Not as young as when they started this whole mess, but it’s her. The scar on  her shoulder shows past her capsleeve, her hair longer and hanging freely around her. She’s dressed casually, a little more composed than just getting out of bed.

She holds her hand out for him, a soft smile on her lips.

“Come on then, we don’t have all day,” she says, moving just enough that he catches a glimpse of her earrings before her hair falls back into place.

Still crying, he takes a step closer, placing his hand in hers.

“Of course, my lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> As per the usual with me, my first contribution to the fandom is angst, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


End file.
